


Hush

by silverthurible (catacombsaint)



Category: Ghost (Swedish Band)
Genre: Anal, M/M, Manipulation, Orgasm Control, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 02:30:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catacombsaint/pseuds/silverthurible
Summary: Papa Emeritus II shows some special attention to his fire ghoul.





	

Fingers press divots into old bruises along narrow hips; fading memories from before that will linger long after the marks themselves are gone. Another hand, clad in slowly warming leather, glides over bare skin in a deliberate and  _ agonizingly _ slow gesture.   
  
Alpha’s breath hitches in his throat with every fleeting brush against his arousal, muscles in his arms tensing and trembling from how heavily he leans against them on the wall.   
  
He’d been cornered in a dressing room at some point not too long after that night’s ritual, riding the high of the excitement of the crowd and—unbeknownst to said crowd, even as they were affected as well—the seemingly heavy, yet uncomfortably desirable weight of Papa Emeritus II’s mere presence. His charisma, an aura about him that thickened the air and seemed nigh irresistible, and his authority that cowed even the most imposing of men. It was suffocating. Moreso on the night of a ritual.  _ Unbearably _ so.   
Alpha knew he was more susceptible to it than anyone else, including any other nameless ghoul.    
  
They weren’t as close to Papa as he was. None of them were. He was special.

Or it felt like it. He wanted it to be that way, at least. He  _ wanted _ Papa to see him as more than the others.

It’s always surprising how warm Papa’s hands felt beneath his gloves; the heat they leave behind his other hand slips beneath Alpha’s cassock to join the other is a path that seems to scorch across his skin, but he craves it. The craving hung in the back of his mind like a dull buzz, nagging at him and his restraint all night like some kind of test.

“Ghoul.”   
  
Alpha jolts to attention.   
  
“Y-yes, Papa?”   
  
One of Emeritus’s hands frees itself again from beneath Alpha’s cassock, and reaching up, he tugs his glove away with his teeth, and tosses it onto a small table not too far behind them.   
Then he pats Alpha’s cheek.   
  
“Open your mouth.”   
  
When he does, Emeritus presses the pads of his middle and ring fingers down onto Alpha’s tongue. The fire ghoul knows well enough, without instruction, to close his lips around them, careful of the points of his teeth, forked tongue swirling around the tips and pulling them further into his mouth. Emeritus breathes out slowly through his nose as Alpha works, body pressing harder against his back, his own arousal starkly apparent then. The contact is enough to make Alpha shiver, and rock back into him.   
Then, when he feels his fingers are adequately wet enough, he slides them out as he brushes Alpha’s cassock aside.

Emeritus hums to himself, something soft and familiar that makes warmth blossom at the base of Alpha’s skull and spread down his spine, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. Emeritus says nothing, only continues his humming in hushed tones, when he pushes slick fingers into his obedient ghoul.   
  
The stretch and the slow burn make Alpha’s breath catch, and when Emeritus presses them inside of him until they can reach no further, he works them inside of him just as slowly.    
  
Of course, as he was wont to do, Emeritus takes his sweet time stretching him, with torturously teasing brushes against Alpha’s prostate that make him shiver, voice raising to finally whisper his pleas. The desperation was reaching a head that he couldn’t bite back any longer.

“Papa—”

“ **_Hush_ ** _. _ ”   
  
A beat.   
  
Then followed by a deeper tone, something softer. And perhaps—was that endearment? Or maybe Alpha was imagining it.    
No, no, endearment felt right. It felt too right to assume anything else, it just made sense.   
  
To him.   
  
“Hush now, little ghoul.” A flick of his wrist that slips his fingers deeper, but  _ just _ so. Barely enough for Alpha to find any real relief. Even for all that his back bows and he tries to push back further into the sensation, Emeritus II’s grip on him was unyielding, sure enough to leave new bruises over the old. He was almost disturbingly strong for how lean he looked.   
  
When Alpha seems to have quieted enough to the dark pope’s liking, he clicks his tongue in that thoughtful way he did when he was soon to say something he felt was important.   
  
Of course it was, he was Papa. Of course it would be.   
  
“Now. Ghoul. We are going to try something,” he says, and there’s something eerily cheerful in his voice when he moves fingers again,” Something like...a game, eh? You like games, don’t you?”  Alpha shivers, then nods.   
  
“Good,” Emeritus replies,” Very good.    
  
Take off your mask for me, would you please.”

The ghoul obeys, bracing his weight more on one arm pressed against the wall, other hand moving to tug his hood off. His mask is pulled away and tossed aside, followed by his balaclava.

It was taboo for a nameless ghoul to remove their mask—their role was in their title—identity didn't matter anymore, they were to be nameless, faceless.

But rules were made to be broken, and often were, outside of the public eye. Not only that—

He was simply compelled to yield to his Papa’s will, as was apparent and ingrained into the nature of all ghouls. An instinctive deference. Stronger in  _ some _ more than others.

Regardless, as soon as Alpha has done as he's told—

Emeritus lets go.

The heat of his chest pressed heavy against Alpha's back, and the warmth of his hands, and pressure of his fingers pressing inside of him and working him open pulls away all at once.

The sudden sweeping chill and emptiness that envelopes him wholly is unbearable.

Papa.  _ Papa. _

Alpha wants to face him, and he wants the comfort and relief of his hands on him again, and he wants to beg for him, and he wants him, he wants him, he  _ needs _ him. But he never says a word. He doesn't move.

His Papa hasn't told him to. So he is still, even as the desperation for release and the self restraint makes his legs shake.

There’s silence, save for the shuffle of fabric behind him, the shift of Papa’s chasuble as he moves. Alpha does nothing to disrupt that silence.

“You can turn around, Ghoul. Look over here. Look at me.” And he does, because he knows not to make Papa repeat himself. That was a lesson hard learned in the past, but learned  _ quickly _ .

He isn’t looking when Alpha turns to him, instead removing his mitre and sitting it onto a table beside him. Then, he sits, hand raising to gesture for the ghoul to come closer. Then to stop.

Then to turn and face away from him. Alpha tries not to let his nerves get the best of him, even though he jolts again when Emeritus touches his thigh without warning.   
  
“Lift this.”

And he makes short work of hitching up his cassock at his Papa’s word, sighing almost blissfully when his hands find his hips again and pull him closer.

He doesn’t know when Papa moved his own chasuble aside, but he near bites his lip hard enough to pierce the skin when he feels his erection hard against his ass.

Then he holds his breath again.

Hands held tight around his hips like a vice, Emeritus eases Alpha down onto his cock, and the shuddering rise and fall of his chest draws a chuckle from him, a deep, rumbling sound that makes Alpha exhale just a bit harder. He opens his mouth to beg, urge him to go faster— _ anything. _

But he bites his lip. He holds it back and he holds his breath until his ass is pressed flush against Emeritus’s hips. Fuck.  _ Fuck _ , it was still too much, cock buried to the hilt inside of him, but the slow push wasn’t enough to keep him from making a sound. If anything, drawing it out made it that much harder.

Alpha slumps back heavily against Emeritus’s chest, and the silence proves too difficult to keep when his nerves felt so wired, when he was so carefully being denied relief.   
  
“Papa,  _ please— _ ” Alpha stumbles over his words, half muttering, half whispering, and locked in a grip that kept him solidly in place. “Please just fuck me, I listened, P-papa, fuck—”   
A single gloved hand pulls away from his hips, reaching up to curl thick fingers around his neck. Slowly. Ever so slowly, they tighten around his throat until each breath comes even more labored, heart rattling in his chest like it was trying to escape.   
  
“Did I not tell you to be quiet, Ghoul? Was I not clear?” The grip gets tighter, leather creaking. “Do you even know how pitiful you sound? I should leave you to finish this off yourself; would you like that?”

His grip loosens enough to let Alpha rasp out an answer.   
  
“No...Papa.”   
  
“Then  _ listen. _ ”   
  
His hand lingers around his throat for a few moments longer, and just as darkness creeps to the edges of Alpha’s vision, as if sensing it, Emeritus releases his hold, hand finding its place again on Alpha’s hip.   
He shifts, making a hushed sound at the tight heat of the ghoul in his lap.   
  
“Fire” seemed a fitting name now.   
  
After finding a comfortable position, Emeritus leans forward, lips pressed close to Alpha’s ear.   
“Move,” he whispers,” Go on, Ghoul. You’ve all but  _ begged _ all night.” As if to prove he was right—and he  _ was _ right; the moment Papa ran his hand along his arm on stage earlier that night, it felt like a surge of electricity in his veins, pulse racing and heart beating so hard he could practically hear it. 

“ _ Don’t _ keep me waiting.” Emeritus squeezes Alpha’s hips hard enough to ache and it pulls him out of his thoughts and back into the moment, and the sensation of his fingers, and how thick Papa feels inside of him.    
It’s too much and not enough all at once.   
  
Alpha inhales through his nose, and braces his hands on the arms of the chair, legs parting further as he straddles Emeritus’s thighs. He rolls his hips back, but Emeritus guides their rhythm, keeping it so agonizingly slow that it feels like torture. It  _ is _ torture. 

He waited, and he waited, and he has what he wants and it’s still not enough yet; each time Alpha tries to move faster, tries to ride him harder, Emeritus only holds him tighter and guides the way he rides his cock. It’s like he senses the desperation, and senses how much he craves him and needs him, and it may very well be that he does.   
The curve of his lips could practically be heard in his laugh when Alpha gasps out a whimper.   
  
“Work harder. You wanted this didn’t you?” Emeritus’s hand he had freed of his glove earlier slips away, bare skin gliding over Alpha’s thigh, fingertips brushing over the head of his cock, slick with pre.    
“You have permission to speak,” he clicks his tongue again, hand curling around the shaft in a loose grip,” Now. Tell me what you want, and I’ll see if I’m in the mood to indulge you. Try to...convince me. You can do that, yes?”   
  
Alpha’s words rush out of him like a dam breaking.   
  
“Papa, papa—” Desperate, breathy pleas. “Fuck me, please just fuck me, I  _ need _ it.”   
  
“You can do better than that, eh? Try again.” Emeritus’s grip gets looser, and it almost feels like he’s lifting Alpha out of his lap.   
The panic and the need set in so deep it feels like a chill in his veins.   
  
“W-wait— _ fuck _ —I need you so much, I need you, please—” And it trails into something meaningless and pitiful and it takes everything for Emeritus not to laugh at him outright. These beasts were all so pathetic it almost seemed callous of him to draw it out. If he were more merciful, he’d care.   
But his fire ghoul pleaded with him so sweetly that he was inclined to indulge him. He’d been so patient after all.   
Wordlessly, and with a sigh that made it seem like a chore, Emeritus’s fingers curl tighter around Alpha’s cock, and that alone was enough to force a sharp gasp from him. Each stroke is still slow, still a tease, but it’s more than before and that feels better by leagues.    
  
“ _ Move. _ ” He pats Alpha’s hip with the hand still resting there, and he rolls back against him again, as slowly as his Papa had fucked him before.   
Emeritus tsks over his shoulder, pulling his foreskin back and the pad of his thumb circling the head of his cock. This time he does laugh at the choked moan that escapes Alpha’s lips.   
“It doesn’t seem like you want this, Ghoul. I feel as if you weren’t serious…” His hand stills. “I suppose I’ll stop.”   
The way Alpha’s hand snaps to his wrist is enough of a response. Words must have been a bit beyond him at the moment. That was amusing enough for Emeritus to  _ actually _ acknowledge the gesture, rather than force the words from him. Why not? He’d listened well enough.   
  
“Faster then, my fire ghoul.”    
  
_ Papa used his name. _

He used his name, and Alpha’s chest gets tight, and his heart skips in a moment that feels like it lasts for an eternity. It catches him so far off guard that he freezes entirely for a fraction of a second. But his senses come back to him all at once, and given whatever passed as free reign, Alpha lets his instincts take over.

His hand pulls away from Emeritus’s arm, taking its place back on the arm of the chair, and braces again. There’s no build up—Alpha wastes no time shifting into riding him hard and fast, tracing the border of being enough to bruise. His mouth falls open as his breath quickens, chest heaving as he fucks himself eagerly on Emeritus’s cock. He doesn’t even notice when he’s started speaking, whispering half to himself, and half to nothing and noone at all.   
  
_ Papa,  _ **_Papa._ **

The enthusiasm doesn't go unappreciated, nor unrewarded, for all that was worth from Emeritus II.

Resting one hand on Alpha's shoulder, Emeritus pushes him forward, shifting the position  _ just so _ . Like this, the ghoul rocked back harder, riding him as fervently as he moaned his name with reverence. The same hand that rested on Alpha's shoulder makes a trail down the curve of his spine, until Emeritus’s hand rested just above the base of his tail. His other hand had since slid away from Alpha's dick, resting on his hip again to hold him.

It's difficult not to react just a little to the way Alpha fucked himself on his cock; the sight alone—Alpha's head bowed in concentration (he'd wished he could see his face...but perhaps another night), how his arms trembled from the white knuckled grip he held on the arms of the chair, the way his thighs shook—it draws out a silent swear in his mother tongue from painted lips.

Emeritus reclines, just a bit, and traces small circles with his thumb at the spot where Alpha's tail met his spine. He shudders, hips losing their rhythm and stuttering in place for moment as his jaw falls slack, tongue following suit when he moans so loud it startles even him.

“The others will hear you. But...you'd like that, wouldn't you?” He punctuates his words by meeting the roll of Alpha's hips with a thrust of his own,” You  _ want _ them to hear how you whore yourself out for me.”

“N-no, I—oh,  _ fuck _ ! I don't—that’s not…”

“So, you don't want them to know how well your Papa treats you?”  _ How special? _ That seems to go unsaid, or was it just what Alpha wanted to hear?

No, it was true, he knows it. He  _ knows _ he stands out from the others in Papa's eyes. Papa gave him his attention, his words, his touch—

It was more than so many other nameless ghouls could say.

“My fire ghoul…” Emeritus strokes leisurely down Alpha's tail, head tilting as he watches with faint interest when it reflexively twines between his fingers. “How they envy you.”

Alpha feels his heart pull so tight in his chest that it hurts. It could  _ burst. _

The competitive part of him, the prideful part of him—they feel validated in a way only these words could bring. From that tightly coiled knot there’s a slow spreading warmth. Papa was  _ telling _ him he was special, telling him he meant more than the others.  _ Showing _ him he meant more.

Alpha shudders, that pleasurable warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach and the movement of his hips reaching an erratic pace. He was  _ so _ close it hurt. It builds, and it builds and—   
  
He’s forced to stop.   
  
Emeritus had taken hold of his hips again and made him stop short entirely, going so far as to pull out of him. For good measure.   
The sound Alpha makes is so shamefully pathetic and decidedly unmasculine, if he wasn’t so far gone he’d feel the embarrassment of it all burning in his cheeks.

“I never said you were allowed to come yet, ghoul.

I am not so sure I should let you now.”

In all truthfulness, he was close himself, but ego keeps him from resisting the temptation to make his ghoul beg for him just one more time. For all that he often found a display like this from these beasts to be miserable, the desperation in them rouses a subtle carnal desire, and a swell of pride in him that falls shy of an addiction itself.    
Their praise, their adoration—and especially that of his fire ghoul—only strokes his ego further.

When Alpha finally composes himself enough to speak, it’s still little more than mindless babbling and pleading, voice hoarse and thin but he needs this so badly; what more can he do?

This goes on for what seems like forever, before Emeritus makes a sound that is hard to discern the meaning of.   
  
With little warning, he pulls Alpha back down hard onto his cock, this time meeting Alpha’s hips each time with a thrust. The rhythm he starts between them is punishing, and fast, with no time left between for Alpha to adjust. Moans turn to shouts, then to sharp whimpers as he’s forced over the edge.   
His climax hits him like a wave breaking on the shore, body tensing and shivering, all other sounds drowned out in a rush of white noise.   
Even when the noise fades away and he comes back to himself, Emeritus hasn’t broken his pace yet, even though the fire ghoul feels over sensitive and worn raw—until he stills with one ragged exhale, tremors seizing his body all at once.    
Then he truly stills.

A few moments tick by in which they’re both silent, save for the sound of them both catching their breath.

And then, rather abruptly, Emeritus shoves Alpha out of his lap.   
After replacing his glove on the single hand that was bare, Papa Emeritus II stands, fixing his chasuble to be presentable again, and carefully replacing his mitre on his head again.   
“Clean yourself up. We have an adoring crowd to meet, ghoul.”   
  



End file.
